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... ng on the table, the moon-viewing feast finally came to an end. Lao Fan, still not quite satisfied, licked the plate that had held the sizzling iron plate tofu one more time before smacking his lips, ready to board the carriage back to Fuman Building.
Just as he was about to reach the gate, he saw no sign of Xia Zheng, that stinking brat, getting off his little stool. Lao Fan’s mung bean eyes rolled around, and he immediately turned back and sprinted over, blowing his beard and staring a ...
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